


Lemon Boy

by DeemkinWrites



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Cameron Campbell Being an Asshole, Caring David (Camp Camp), Child Abandonment, David Acting as Max's (Camp Camp) Parental Figure, Gen, Gwen Acting As Max's (Camp Camp) Parental Figure, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Max is in 6th grade, Max's (Camp Camp) Parents Are Bad Parents, Post-Camp (Camp Camp), Recovery, dadvid, david is a middle school teacher too, slight gwenvid later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-07-23 05:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20002822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeemkinWrites/pseuds/DeemkinWrites
Summary: Max was alone again. He never expected to find a home at Camp Campbell, and he will never admit that he did, but now that camp is over... Max was alone. He was alone with a severely depressed mother, a house with moldy walls, and Mr. Honeynuts, his only friend in the cold neighborhood around him.But when an incident leaves Max more alone than ever before, he finds solace in the scent of campfire smoke and sickeningly sweet smiles.





	1. Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> Alright! Chapter one. I am so excited to be writing again and I will do my best to keep to a schedule! I'm going to try for one chapter every Monday. I hope you enjoy!!!!
> 
> Also, the title is from "Lemon Boy" by Cavetown. I just thought the song matched Max and David's dynamic pretty well!

So this was it. Camp was over and everyone was returning to their probably boring and mundane lives likely already counting the days before summer starts again even though it wasn't officially over yet. All the campers went home to a probably warm dinner, a warmer house, and an even warmer welcome from their family who missed them over the break. All they had to worry about was what to wear to school on the first day, but they could still be secure knowing that deep down, someone cares. No matter their awful fashion sense, looking at you Space Kid, there was always someone who would love them without judgment.

This was true for probably everyone except for one smaller-than-average 11-year-old boy who sat in the back of a dreary old bus, jostling him uncomfortably on the cardboard seats as it rumbled down a pitted and unkept country road. Max was the only one on the bus since it was about 11 o'clock at night and he barely managed to catch the last bus leaving for Tacoma. He wanted to leave earlier and try to get home before 9 so he could make dinner for his mom, but David insisted that they wait for his mother, who Max knew would never come. She could hardly be bothered to get out of bed, let alone drive three hours to pick up her kid from camp.

And so he waited with David by the dying bonfire and watched the soft evening colors bleed into darker and darker hues of blue and black. His optimistic counselor sat by the embers with steely determination before Gwen finally caved and drove Max to the bus stop in Sleepy Peak which was an hour away. David heavily argued with the notion of Max being alone in a probably very sketchy old bus with an equally sketchy bus driver. He even asked Gwen if she could drive Max to Tacoma, but she refused on the count of 'not getting paid enough' and 'Tacoma was a full four hours from where she lived'. David stated that he would offer to drive Max himself, but he had to tear down and maintain the camp before leaving.

Even so, David declared he wouldn't mind the drive and extra work tomorrow if Max wanted him to help, but Max vehemently rejected any ride to the dirt hovel he called home. He refused to let anyone see the terrible home life he led and he couldn't bare to see those overly-sympathetic eyes of David when he saw just how bad his life was. Maybe then he would open his eyes to the horrors of reality and take a wake-up call finally.

Although he would probably say something like 'sometimes the worst homes hide the best families' or some optimistic crap like that, Max thought ruefully. David would never wake up and all the same, Max could never close his eyes again.

The dark-skinned boy leaned his head against the cool window of the bus as rain drifted across it aimlessly, buffeted by the wind. His green eyes stared out the window without looking at anything and a natural scowl weathered onto his face once again.

Nothing had been the same since his dad left. Yeah, things were terrible before, but at least his mother had the energy to smile back then. He would hide the bruises and nurse his wounds before his mother could see them just so things would remain normal and she would be happy. His dad would hide how far his cancer was progressing to achieve the same task. Happy compromises and no one except Max had to get hurt. But then all at once, both compromises fell apart. Max's mother walked in on one of her husband's particularly brutal beatings and forced the dying man out of the house. Honestly, that's what the bastard deserved for lying his entire life, but why did his mom have to get caught in the crossfire?

Hell, why did _he_ have to get caught in the crossfire?

No matter why, Max supposed. After all, the sick bastard could've died four years ago for all he cared, the result would just stay the same. He'd be leaving behind a wife too grief-stricken to remember her name and a son left to pick up after his mess. Again. 

But who knows, he mused. Maybe his mom finally began attending those grief-counseling support groups like he urged her to or maybe she was taking her anti-depressants like her doctor prescribed! Max let out a scoff, watching his breath cloud the glass slightly. Or maybe David was just rubbing off on him too much and his eyes relaxed slightly to the perils of real life. Constant vigilance, he reminded himself. Constant vigilance. Too high of hopes only set him up for a fall and so Max firmly clamped down on his hopes for a better future and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

\----//----

It was about 2 in the morning when the cardboard bus jolted to a stop, forcing Max awake as his head painfully knocked against the glass panel. He rubbed his head in brief annoyance while glaring daggers at the bus driver. The harsh stop was completely unnecessary, but Max simply chalked it up as another pleasure of life. People being assholes. Not like he didn't already have that little gem engraved into his skull.

Max slid off the greasy, flat seat and strung his blue backpack across his shoulder and made his way down to the front of the bus. The bus driver glared at him with contempt, probably blaming the small boy for his late hours, but frankly, he should be thanking Max for the overtime. Judging by his messy gray hair and yellowed teeth, the old man could use the extra money towards a cosmetic procedure or two. 

"End of the line. Hurry up, little boy! I don't get paid for stalling the bus," he grumbled as Max passed by, swearing under his breath about ungrateful brats.

"Yeah! You have a wonderful night." Max bowed sardonically in a form that would make even Preston proud.

But that sarcastic remark was paid for as the bus driver shut the doors and sped away barely as Max stepped off the gum-covered steps onto equally disgusting concrete with stains of god-knows-what glittering under the street light. It was only a mile walk to his little hovel, but the bitterly cold 45-degree weather made the walk all the worse. It was the middle of August for crying out loud! 

Max absolutely detested cold weather, despite the fact that it makes his favorite hoodie more comfortable to wear. The bitterness numbed him to the outside world and he liked to stay alert on account of living in the slums. Even his elementary school was considered unsafe due to the lack of employment regulations. If you had four limbs and could recite the alphabet, you were good to teach. More than half of the teachers just forged their teaching certificate and Max was 90% sure that they all had a sordid history. It was actually in that school that he learned how important blackmail was. He simply dug into the teachers' records until he found a drug possession here, an attempted murder there, there were even a couple domestic abuse charges that could hang over their heads. Now, while most kids carried switchblades, Max was merely armed with knowledge and the teachers left him well alone.

The city wair was thick with smog and dust as his portion of the city was going under major reconstructions as the city officials tried to smoke out the rats and demolish most of the housing developments for shinier new models. This was fine by Max as he had no attachment to the area and in his opinion, it could all burn to the ground. Still, the burning made breathing quite difficult as he had to pull his hoodie up and over his nose to try and filter out some debris. In fact, everyone had to. From the shady drug dealers to the mostly clean 'Make Lower Tacoma Great Again' campaigners. 

As Max mechanically made his way through the lower alleys, he noticed how no stars shined in his city. Back at camp, the air was so disgustingly clear and wild that he could lie on the dock and practically make out every star in high definition. Here, the stars were choked out by a thick layer of dust, debris, and lights. Max would never in a million years admit to missing camp, but he certainly did miss the stars.

His reminiscing quickly came to close as his feet drew near a familiar chain link fence and gravel pathway that was so overgrown with weeds, they caught on the feet of anyone who tried to enter. Not that anyone ever visited them aside from his mom's Visiting Angel, Amanda Hampton. She was a relatively large woman with short curly hair the color of cornhusks. Honestly, Max never really talked to the woman, but he respected her for taking care of his mom.

His mom had gotten ridiculously frail in the past few years since his dad left. She rarely stopped shaking, she lost most of her weight and muscle, and she slept most of the day when Amanda wasn't coaxing her to take a walk with her or to visit the park. Max's mother was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease just a couple months after the divorce papers were signed. The doctors said it happens very suddenly and there was little anyone could do but just try to persevere. Too bad his mom had already lost all fight in her. He stopped caring eventually. He stopped looking when she fell, he stopped correcting strangers who gave her dirty looks because she looked drunk, and he stopped trying to fight for her. She had obviously given up and Max couldn't blame her. Most days, Max felt the same.

Max sighed as he approached the rusted front door which nearly blended in with the equally drab and bland colored panels. To his shock, the lock didn't budge when he turned his key, but he just assumed it was already rusted over and forced the door open by pushing on it a few times. The hinges were so deteriorated it didn't take much to bust them and Max had to do that quite often before he replaced the lock shortly before he left for camp. 

The first thing that greeted Max as he stepped into the house was not the scent of candles being burned nor the sight of a mostly unkempt house, but the acrid smell of old dust and torn sheets covering sparse furniture. Thinking he simply walked into the wrong house, he backtracked to check the address and when it was the same one he had been acquainted with since the 4th grade, he froze and noticed the 'for sale' sign that read in bright red letters 'foreclosure'.

His breath began to quicken and tears pricked at his bright green eyes, but he refused to break down without a proper explanation. His mom had likely just forgotten to update the address in the camp directory or the update might've gotten lost on its way to Camp Campbell. After all, the place was in the middle of nowhere. Besides, there was no way the state would let a minor being knowingly abandoned. Right?

"Shit, Max! Think," he whispered to himself while running through a potential checklist of people he could ask.

The police were out of the question because Lower Tacoma Police Department stunk of corruption and he was more likely to get stabbed, raped, or murdered there than anywhere else. He supposed he could wait until morning and make the trek to Greater Tacoma, but then he was likely to just be placed into foster care until they could find his mother's address. He has never been in the system, but several of his allies from school were and he refused to placed into temporary care if he could help it.

His neighbors barely knew him so it was unlikely they'd hear anything or care enough to pay attention. After all, in Lower Tacoma, you kept your nose clean of other people's business unless you wanted to get twenty different death threats hanging on your door.

Amanda was probably his best shot, but he never really met the lady. Still, he decided to give her a shot and fished his phone out of his backpack, finding it wedged between Mr. Honeynuts and the second blue hoodie his mom got him for whatever reason. Max took off his backpack and sat on the ground in the weeds before clicking the phone on. The brightness was turned all the way up as to combat the obscenely bright sun that seemed to always shine over Lake Lilac, but now it burned as its own miniature sun and it stung his eyes just to look at so he quickly turned it to its lowest setting while swearing and blinking away a potential headache.

In a blind panic, he ignored all the messages showing on his lock screen and went straight to his contacts, scrolling through the 'A's' and to his dismay, no Amanda. Max swore loudly and contemplated slamming his phone on the ground, but he refused to express his frustration in such a way. It lacked class and was far too much like his father than he would ever like to be. Sighing in defeat, he checked his notifications, hoping for an address, but really just expecting a break from the literal hellhole his life had dissolved into.

_**Four missed messages from Nerdy Loser** _

Max smirked slightly as he read from Niel that his friend was wondering if got home safely (of course he did because he definitely wasn't abandoned), if he planned on attending camp next year (maybe, maybe not. It's not like Camp Camp was his only home now or anything), what plans were for the summer and if he wanted to hang out sometime (to which he would love to, but his summer was definitely packed so it wasn't likely). He didn't feel bad at all about lying to his best friend because it was for his own good. No one had to know how messed up his life was or how much it hurt that his mom likely forgot that she had custody of Max because he couldn't stand pity. He couldn't have a repeat of Parent's Day.

More than slightly depressed, Max sighed and realized he wasn't going to get anywhere in the current state of things. The small boy climbed back up to his feet and winced as his shoes squelched against the mud and weeds. In his panic, he hadn't noticed that the rain shower must've swept through this area first and now his lower half was soaked in freezing water and caked in mud. Again, he just sighed, resigned to the fact that his life was just the perfect example to prove Murphy's Law. 

Now exhausted and soaking wet, he climbed back through the broken hinges of the door and tried his best to suppress a sneeze from the sheer amount of dust that wafted through the air. She must've been gone a while, Max mused in a very gloomy manner. Nothing even smelled like her anymore. Max wished he could've found anywhere else for shelter, not wanted to spend another minute in his abandoned house, but as he learned many times through life, we never get our way. 

Bypassing the sheet-covered couch and chairs, he instead curled up in a corner of the room. Not only was he out of sight of any potential rapists or murderers, but he also could keep constant watch of all his surroundings because as a byproduct of being a light sleeper, every little bump in the night sounded like potential death. Not that he really had a life to protect anymore, but David would probably break completely if he died. Max wanted to see him wake up, not shatter. 

Before Max could ponder why David was the first man to come into his mind when he thought of why he should stay alive, a wave of exhaustion swept over him and stole all the fight from his limbs. Slowly, the lost boy drifted asleep with Mr. Honeynuts clutched tightly in his arms and his backpack tied to his small frame beneath rotting wood and cracked concrete. 


	2. Oedipus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max is discovered by an MLTGA (Make Lower Tacoma Great Again) volunteer and is very worried he might have to be taken by Child Protective Services.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! Chapter two is finally complete and I was slogging through hours of child abandonment and CPS research for the state of Washington. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Also, I chose Oedipus as the chapter title because he was also abandoned by his parents and not because of the rather sordid prophecy surrounding him.
> 
> //side note: I forgot to mention this last chapter, but Jess4400 reminded me that a major inspiration for this work was by an animatic called Lemon Boy on YouTube that was made by Sopuliuli. I highly recommend it and a huge thank you to Jess4400 for reminding me//

\----TJ----

In the bowels of Lower Tacoma, there lies an abandoned house ridden with weeds, rust, and rot. And much like the house, the family that once occupied the desolate hovel was equally tarnished with choking weeds and hearts so rusted from neglect that they rotted through to their core. One would expect such a place to fall apart at the slightest blow of wind, but the house -- like everything in Lower Tacoma -- learned to be resilient and could stand even the strongest of hurricanes that blew in its wake, no matter how much its foundation cracked and groaned under the stress.

Much like the house, the small boy that sought refuge within its cheap walls looked prone in his sleeping state, but the toughness and bitterness that clung in a thick aura around him warned strangers otherwise. His cracked and dirty fingernails indicated a life spent struggling just to survive. His callous-riddled hands and worn soles of his shoes told numerous tales that promised toil and constant running. His face which naturally relaxed into a bitter scowl showed only a portion of the tragedy he encountered and the scars on his heart. Even though he looked frail, a closer look would show--

"Hey! Tyler! Would you stop writing that gay shit and help me? This furniture isn't going to move itself you know and I don't get paid enough to watch you write your gay porn," a greatly-muscled man bellowed crudely.

"But why~" his much leaner comrade whined while tossing his notepad on the couch for dramatic emphasis. "It's not we're getting paid or anything. Honestly, Ken-doll, you didn't even have to be here!"

Kendrick huffed a great sigh at his friend's -- admittedly valid -- point. The large man even honored Tyler with an eye-roll before grunting, "It's not like you had to be here either. You could've just as easily written your smutty fanfiction, or whatever the hell it is, at home. With air-conditioning. And Wi-Fi."

"For the fiftieth time, darling, it's not fanfiction _or_ gay porn. It's a documentation about the terrors of Lower Tacoma and why its wealthier neighbor should pour more funds into our project." Tyler huffed in slight indignation as wiped his notepad free of dust and continued to write his 'gay fanfiction'. The mountain bows to no one, he thought with a slight smirk.

"So is that how you're contributing to the MLTGA campaign? I assumed you were just pissing our already small monthly funds to fuel your overactive hormones with more caffeine and justifying it by claiming you have a degree in journalism," Kendrick retorted lazily before collapsing on of the chairs, giving in to the slight chill of the early morning air around them.

Tyler sighed heavily before glancing at the small boy in the corner. He wished the kid was the first or even the second abandoned minor they encountered that week. But life seems to be cruel to kids around these parts because he was the fifth starving child they've met and each one was the same. Tired, starving, desperate for help but too wary to accept it. Besides, even if they called CPS on the poor kids, they likely would be labeled "problem children" and forever be doomed as wards of the state. Tyler realized just how fortunate he was that he had a loving family in every abandoned kid they met.

"Hey, Ken?" The lean, black-haired man spoke quietly as to not disturb the boy, but he had enough experience with them to know that the kid was likely already awake, just waiting for them to leave. The large bear-of-a-man tilted his head at him to indicate he was listening before Tyler continued to ask, "What should we do with him?"

His brown-haired friend gave a thin scowl and his brown eyes deepened in slight remorse. They both knew what they were supposed to do, but they also knew that just letting them be would be a mercy. Still, it didn't mean they liked it anymore. Even Kendrick, the stone wall himself, felt very depressed just thinking about the lost kids. Tyler had to admit he felt the same. If not, even worse. But nevertheless, the large mountain of a man replied with a simple, "we do with him what we did with the others."

Tyler let out a small curse. There was no way he was going to let _another_ kid go hungry. He ran a hand through his already tousled black hair and did a quick survey of their options. They could call the police and have the kid likely be sold into a sex ring, they could call CPS and have the kid be locked up for all his life, or they could call CPS and hope and pray that the kid had any living family left. Most kids around here weren't so lucky as they were probably the black sheep or simply had no one left alive. Lower Tacoma was a last resort for people. This wasn't a place where families had multiple generations living here, this was a place where you go if you have no other choice.

Regardless, he decided that hope was all the had left and snapped out of his rumination. "What did you say about the folks that lived here before," he asked, "Is there a chance the kid has a father or something that could take him in?"

"I mean, I suppose the mom could've been a divorcee, but more likely than not they are widows. Why don't you just ask him if you're so keen on helping him? He's obviously been listening this entire time," Kendrick paused for a moment to turn his head towards the small boy, "isn't that right, kid?"

In response, the mass of black curly hair lifted to reveal a spiteful face that was previously buried in his hoodie, pretending to be asleep. With a curl of his lip and nothing but contempt in his eyes, he replied. "I don't have a dad, jackass."

Before either man could say or do anything in response, the boy quickly hopped to his feet and bolted. Fortunately, Kendrick was expecting this and grabbed the hood of his jacket before he could go any further. The large man kept a steady grip even when the kid started kicking and screaming to be let go. Eventually, the fight seemed to drain out of him as he stopped flailing and allowed himself to be dragged onto the couch beside Tyler. Still, he made it clear he wasn't keen on talking by crossing his arms and pointed staring away from either man with a firm scowl planted on his face.

"Can I get a name," Tyler asked hopefully although he expected to be greeted with nothing but silence, "Look, kid. If you give me a name, I might be able to help you. I want to help you! I'm not going to turn you over to the state unless you have folks to go to. I've heard enough from Kendrick over here to know that foster care is not the way to go. I don't know your situation or anything, but I'd like to. More than anything though, I just want to see you safe. Now let's try this again. My name is Tyler Johnson, what's your name?"

The boy rolled his green eyes and sunk further into the couch, obviously thinking hard about something as evident by the wrinkle of his eyebrows before he muttered a small, "Max."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Sorry for the shorter chapter, I usually try to write over 2,000, but I am about to get my wisdom teeth removed so I am in pain. That's also why it's being posted on a Sunday rather than a Monday because my appointment is tomorrow! But yeah, two of them are impacted, lucky me, so I will hopefully be lucid enough next week to write Chapter Three, but if not, I apologize and it will be done when I can write, lol.
> 
> Again, I am so sorry for cutting this short, but I hope you understand. Thank you and I love you all! I will see you next Monday! <3


	3. Quasimodo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unsure of what to do with Max, Kendrick and Tyler drive him to the MLTGA headquarters to try and find his family. But is Max prepared to walk into enemy territory?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello! So first things first, I am overwhelmed with the amount of support this fic has gotten and I am so grateful. Thank you to Hailey, Jess4400, Whydoineedtodothis, LostOneHero, and everyone else who has commented, I am sorry if I couldn't get to your name if you're not listed, but rest assured I will always reply. I do not deserve you guys but I will try my hardest to. <3
> 
> No David yet, but I promise he will be here very shortly along with the rest of the gang! I have the whole story mapped out, now I just have to buckle down and write it!
> 
> I love you all, each and every one of you, and I sincerely hope you all enjoy.

This was the exact sort of situation Max was trying to avoid. If he were smart, he would've run in the opposite direction of either man -- although calling Tyler a man seems about as correct as calling that lumbering beast a girl -- and hop out the window before they could catch him. Even smarter yet, he could've slept in his closet or just have not slept at all. He usually fancied himself a light and alert sleeper, but combined with staying up till the early hours and the emotionally draining event that put him in this position in the first place, he must've passed out harder than he anticipated.

Still, if Tyler was the normal sort of volunteer, he would have just left him to sleep in that corner and would just do his job. But no. The scrawny, little thing just _had_ to be a hero. What luck! It's like the effeminate man knew nothing about living in the slums. You don't talk to anyone. You don't give your name to anyone. You don't so much as look at anyone. Tyler and Kendrick destroyed all of those principles in the short time of a few minutes. They absolutely obliterated the entire code he had lived by since before he could talk!

But then again, didn't Max also break those rules? The dark-skinned boy gave out a sharp laugh riddled with irony and a small dose of self-loathing. He pointedly ignored it when Tyler spun around from the passenger seat with a look of concern. Maybe David really was rubbing off on him. His green eyes narrowed as he thought of the exuberant red-head. A mixture of warmth -- a feeling he didn't expect to feel --, pity, and contempt filled his small chest as he remembered the determination in his aqua eyes, the unfailing optimism fueling every moment, the inexplicable kindness he showed, and -- of course -- Parent's Day.

Max knew his mother wouldn't show up on the simple basis of she physically couldn't. He would never fault her for that and he was confident that he would see her again before the week was out. His dad, on the other hand, was a deadbeat with an emphasis on the beating aspect. His dad was an asshole and he was glad that he didn't show his ugly mug, that is if he was even alive. But it still stung. Seeing all his friends with their -- admittedly dysfunctional -- families made him think of everything he could never have. A warm bed, a hot dinner, a cozy home, and an overall stable living.

The small boy sighed quietly and leaned his black mass of hair against the window of the van and watched the unimpressive scenery of Lower Tacoma blur away in a mass of cookie-cutter shapes and dull colors. Even when blurred, the city still looked like shit.

"You alright back there, Max," Tyler called out from the front seat, rudely interrupting his reverie. "You've been awfully quiet and I know it's not my place, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Max just grunted in affirmation, not even sparing a glance at the loud-mouthed volunteer. It didn't really matter what he said anyway. He wasn't delusional enough to actually believe he had any input on his life while trapped in this metal van, miles away from his house and even farther away from the camp.

A spark shot through him as he thought of Camp Campbell and before he could even formulate a plan, a thrum of excitement pulsed through his small frame. Yes! He knew what to do! He knew how to buy himself more time and take control of his life for once!

"Actually, Tyler," Max suddenly started. "If you can take me to Camp Campbell on Lake Lilac, I assure you I'll be in good hands."

Those hands, of course, meaning his own. He wouldn't trust anyone else with his life. Not even his own mother. But still, he hopes that once he gets to camp, it will be vacant and he could do some research as to the whereabouts of his mother. He could also simply go with Tyler and that bear of his back to their base and use their WiFi, but that would mean trusting other people far more than he was willing to.

But still, Tyler's face erupted into one of pure elation and Max couldn't help but wonder if it's because he's getting rid of the abandoned boy or because he's genuinely happy to hear that he wasn't alone. But Max, so bitter towards the world and convinced that adult men were selfish bastards, was convinced it was the former. The small boy shifted slightly in the seat, uncomfortable with the reminder. The old and healed scars littered over his small body began to itch slightly. 

Then his thoughts shifted towards David again. Was he the same? Yes, Max replied to himself without hesitance before releasing a sigh and running a small hand through his curly hair.

Completely deaf to Max's inner turmoil, Tyler responded in such a volume that even Kendrick flinched slightly, forcing the car to veer slightly. "Oh, of course, Max! God, kid, I am so happy you have people to go to because I _really_ didn't want to have to turn you over to Social Services! Of course, I will take you, but I'll drive you tomorrow. Lake Lilac is a bit out of the way and Kendrick has to finish erm... clearing your house anyways." 

"Jesus Christ, Tyler. Turn it down a notch," the mountain replied with a grumble while sending a pointed glare at the smaller man.

"Ah. Sorry, Ken..." His associate apologized while rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

The gesture reminded Max so strongly of Niel that he completely forgot to check if he still had his phone. It would be typical of Lower Tacoma's esteemed citizens to take advantage of a sleeping child. Slowly and quietly opening his navy blue bag, he found Mr. Honeynuts, a spare hoodie, a thin blanket, and -- with no small amount of relief -- his phone. The small black (overpriced) piece of tech was found on the very bottom of the backpack with no damage aside from the old scratches that adorned its surface. Max clicked the button on the side and there revealed several unread messages. One from Niel, seven from the group chat between Nikki and Niel, five from David, but none from his mom. He quickly dismissed Niel's offer to talk about his home life (because no, Niel, everything is good), refused "The Hellions" suggestion of a sleepover or get together (because he was so excited to be home again with his loving family), and paused on David's sincere messages because maybe everything wasn't alright.

**// 5:03 am -- David -- Hey, Max! Gwen and I were just wondering if you were alright?"**

No, nothing was alright. But nothing has been alright for a while.

**// 5:03 am -- David -- I mean, it's okay if you aren't.//**

Is it really though?

**// 5:11 am -- David -- I know it's super early, so you obviously don't have to respond to this right away, but if things go south, don't hesitate to call me or Gwen!//**

Gwen too, huh?

**//5:12 am -- David -- I mean, probably not Gwen, but definitely me.//**

There it is.

**//5:24 am -- David -- Look, can you please just tell me if you got home safe? I'm a little worried.//**

And maybe you have every reason to be.

Sighing, Max typed out a quick, "I'm fine, you spaz." Although he secretly wanted to talk to someone about the trouble he found himself in, he really didn't need to put that kind of stress on his mom once he found her. What if they called Child Protective Services and deemed his mother unfit to take care of him! Sure, she probably wasn't up to the task, but Max didn't need someone to take care of him anymore. He learned to be alright on his own since before he even turned 5.

"Alright, kid! Here's our stop," Tyler called out while opening the passenger door with much flourish it would probably make Preston cry from pure appreciation. 

Max smirked at the thought of the theater nerd and proceeded to crawl out of the back door with less enthusiasm. He's never been to the MLTGA headquarters but he knew that it wasn't all sunshine as Tyler would want everyone to think. Not completely different from Camp Campbell, Max reflected fondly (but not too fondly) as the van drove away behind him. Overall, it wasn't much to look at. It was just as shabby as everything else in Lower Tacoma and was likely held together by old superglue and sticks.

The last glimpse he caught of the sky before heading into enemy territory was a cloudy overcast, promising rain to accompany their cold front. As he entered the cheap door screen, he wasn't at all surprised to find it just as cold as the outside was. Max saw a man working on their heating unit. Typical. Just like everything in Lower Tacoma, it seemed to be utter garbage and totally useless. He scoffed.

Tyler didn't seem too bothered by the broken heater however as he cheerfully greeted several of his colleagues and didn't seem to notice when they didn't pay any attention to him. Mostly because all the attention was on the small worse-for-wear boy walking next to him. Some eyes were curious, some sympathetic, some with disdain, but all of them were unpleasant and suffocating. His back stiffened, but he managed to keep his face relaxed. None of them could know how uncomfortable he was. They wouldn't know how his skin was crawling, how his heart was pounding, how every square inch of him screamed at him to run. Because in his experience, any amount of negative attention from strangers warranted a beating. He couldn't bring down the family name!

But then, that was a few years when his dad still ruled over his little world. Max relaxed slightly when he reminded himself that his dad was far away. Preferably 6 feet below or behind bars, but any amount of distance over 50 feet would do. 

Still, that didn't help the uncomfortable knowledge that the group of people chattering by the coffee machine were likely talking about him, that the man with a flask in his hand was staring at him intently, and that everyone knew who he was. Or rather, _what_ he was. And what he was is a street rat, just another abandoned child, and burden on the already sinking Lower Tacoma economy.

"Screw 'em," Max muttered to him almost inaudibly and he was herded into a small room with a trashy desk and worn-out typewriter.

He quietly sat on the corner of the decrepit couch (his back facing the corner of the room, furthest from the door) as Tyler closed the door and sighed. "Sorry about my friends out there. They're not too happy with kids like you since a group of kids broke in here and stole our food, even though we would've helped them if they asked."

Max wanted to say something like, 'it's no problem, I'm used to it' or 'sorry you guys got raided', but instead revealed way too much with a, "yeah, I think I know the kids that raided this place. They're always breaking into convenience stores and stuff to provide for some of the younger kids in the alleys. They hardly ever got away with it. Guess they got lucky." 

Max kicked himself mentally for being so open, fully blaming David, but still, he said it and Tyler's frown deepened before he asked in a small voice, "is it really that bad out there?"

That was an easy question and the answer came so quickly it was almost instinctual. 

"Yeah," Max replied bitterly. "It _really_ is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't believe I got this done in time! I'm on some pretty powerful pain meds because I got my wisdom teeth removed and I apologize for any errors be it plot-wise, how I wrote a character, grammatically, anything. Let me know of any mistakes and I will fix them immediately! Have a great day and thank you for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for it being particularly wordy, but I gotta get this exposition out of the way and I doubt there would be many human interactions at the early hours of the morning. Regardless, I had a blast writing this and I promise next chapter, things will speed up. But I am a very descriptive writer so bare with me, folks! 
> 
> Please leave a comment as to your thoughts, theories, or suggestions and I guarantee you a response! Have a wonderful day all you lovely people!
> 
> ~Deemkin~


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